He wandered round to the back garden and climbed on to the wall.
“Hello!” said the little girl next door, looking up.
Something about the little girl’s head and curls reminded William of the simple country maiden. There was a touch of the artistic temperament about William. He promptly felt himself the simple country son of the soil.
“Hullo, Joan,” he said in a deep, husky voice intended to be expressive of intense affection. “Have you missed me while I’ve been away?”
“Didn’t know you’d been away,” said Joan. “What are you talking so funny for?”
“I’m not talkin’ funny,” said William in the same husky voice, “I can’t help talkin’ like this.”
“You’ve got a cold. That’s what you’ve got. That’s what Mother said when she saw you splashing about with your rain tub this morning. She said, ‘The next thing that we shall hear of William Brown will be he’s in bed with a cold.’”
“It’s not a cold,” said William mysteriously. “It’s jus’ the way I feel.”
“What are you eating?”
“Gooseberry Eyes. Like one?” He took the packet from his pocket and handed it down to her. “Go on. Take two—three,” he said in reckless generosity.